pain’s perspective

i forgot how it feels like to stop pretending. to be happy for real and for myself. i’m tired. very.

unfortunately i have fallen too deep, and there’s nothing in anyone’s power that can save me. but i don’t need a savior, i am my own soldier and i live my own world and alone, i fight my own demons.

my mind is a wreck, and my personalities are split. i think of others before me that think of themselves before others which is good, for them. it is better that way. i overthink freely, and put all the blame on me thinking that’s a healthier way to live but it’s not.

i drown in my own thoughts and they’re not only at nights. i sometimes scream a call for help but they never come. i thought some were my friends, but pain was oblivious to them.

they were happy, i was not. i was the anchor of the ship they were sailing. I don’t think of my pain sometimes, they eat me up anyways. sometimes thinking of others and helped me. sometimes I couldn’t comprehend my words, sometimes i do. sometimes things get too much and i cried. but it was always crying. so i fought myself, physically. then i learned how to use concealer.

i’m a fighter, fighting but barely surviving. i’m no good in everything i do and i mess things up all the time. i feel sorry for myself, and i apologize all the time even when i’m nowhere near wrong. i like being alone, sometimes. but i get lonely. so i made friends but i still get lonely. so sad. so empty.

I don’t appreciate myself sometimes either, let alone self love. alive but barely breathing, I’m trying, still wanting to understand. underestimation empowerment. rising, I’m trying.

I get confused of what I’m trying to say either, one moment it was i’m okay with hurting and the other i just don’t. maybe it was something about being hurt all the time and get numb and then maybe it was the small part in us that still hopes for better things.

the world is mental, says Ron. my pain’s perspective is wicked. it’s tearing me apart and i’m sewing it with art. things get hard to comprehend sometimes but still we kept on hoping. In the end it was true.

Pain never stays unless we want them to.

had a heart lined with cracks but i chose art to fill it.
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